Numbers
by radiany
Summary: [for Nek0-chan] Yami no Malik rules the world, Jounouchi and Anzu angst, Yuugi's lost it, and Kaiba just sits there. [JouSeto, YamiYuugi, staring second-voice, emptiness, and eyes] Part One of the World Domination vignettes.


**Dedication **Nek0-chan [the Mentos]

**Why **I used the Yami no Malik!word domination scenario just for you xD

**Labels **shonen-ai hints; death, death, and more death; OOC; some profanity; world domination; oneshot; drabble; angst; pg

**[beforehand]**

Mentos-chan, before you read any further - _if _you're reading, that is – I want to ask you a question. Are you going to use the "what Yami no Malik will do after he rules the world" question and answer scenario in any future ficlet? We dicussed this on Chibizoo's message board, after I commented on your Harry Potter/Yugioh crossover ficlet "Something Wicked This Way Comes," but I never saw the ficlet come out oO; Hmm. I just want to know. I'm also sorry because I wrote this as JouSeto, and I'm not sure if you actually approve of that pairing ; Most of the ficlet is through Jounouchi's view and Yami no Malik only gets a few scene shots – sorry! I hope the twisted YamiYuugi hints that I placed make up for it xX

Story basis is credited to Aja's "Twelfth Night."

Part One of the World Domination series xD

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**Numbers**

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On the first day of his reign, there are whispers and rumors and gossip that Yami no Malik has taken over the world but no one seems to believe it because it all seems like a great elaborate joke. But you can see that everything's changed, because, after all, if it was a prank you would be the first to know.

You knew that he was planning to do so, with all his boasts and evil laughs at Battle City – but deep down inside, there was wishful thinking that he might be too cowardly to go through with it. The fact that Yami no Yuugi was an invincible ancient spirit with unmatched shadow powers helped. Well, that had been the general idea at the time. Despite the public's favoritism towards Kaiba, Yami no Yuugi had already beaten Kaiba once before, and there was a wave of doubt that had ridden over the crowds.

No one knew _anything_ about Yami no Malik except that he was exceptionally evil – excluding his sister and maybe Rishid, and she had done nothing but believe that despite the bastard's insane psychotic powers, her Pharaoh would defeat him (and save him, as a result).

That's what everyone believed.

Yami no Yuugi defeats Yami no Malik with the world singing "Hallelujah" in the background like choir boys. Good defeats Evil. Light defeats Dark. After all, that's what always happens in the stories and the movies and the games, right?

You aren't sure what happened in the final duel between the guardian and the guarded, but it sure as hell hadn't gone the way it should've.

In the afterward, you had expected a thousand years of darkness or at least something similar – in fact, you think that everyone probably thought the same. Day after day, you wake up and eat breakfast thinking that you _shouldn't_ be sitting there at your kitchen table munching on cornflakes when you should be bound and gagged in some dungeon somewhere or be next in line to be boiled in oil. Day after day, the reporters sit and chat about the earth's – apparent – impending doom, knowing all very well that their viewers are sitting at the edge of their seats as they await the announcements for immediate disintegration. Bastards. According to them, just because the sky isn't raining blood doesn't mean Yami no Malik can't play "search and destroy" in his spare time. People are saying that there are more graves being dug every day and all the radio stations have stopped their music and have started listing the names of the dead.

There's a clip-on radio hanging from someone's belt, and you can hear it as you sit down at your desk (after all, if families aren't being slaughtered everywhere you turn, then you might as well have school; how predictable). It echoes through the classroom because there's nothing but dead silence, not even the familiar grating click clack click clack of Kaiba's fingers banging his faithful laptop. Suddenly, your memory hits you in the space between your eyes and you recall yesterday's death toll.

Apparently, Mokuba died.

Rumor has it Yami no Bakura finally lost it and tried to seize Mokuba's body; evidently, Yami no Malik watched them in amusement before he "played" with them. That day, Bakura died. Ryou died. Seto's "oh-so-adorable" little brother died. Their bodies were immediately incinerated and not even their ashes remained.

Despite your past disputes with him, you can't help but turn your head and look toward his seat, wondering if he'll ever come back - but you gape when you acknowledge the fact that he's _here_. He's not carrying his briefcase and his hair looks crumpled, but he's _here_. You resist the urge to blink and rub your eyes.

He sits there with his hands folded neatly upon the desktop, staring into space with eyes you've never seen before – eyes as dull as clay. Of course, they never twinkled or anything, but at least they were full of _something_, before. For the rest of the period, he sits silently and watches nothing, assuming the appearance of listening whenever the teacher starts lecturing and answering questions in a voice so dry and so _empty_ that you want to stomp up and give him a black eye whenever he opens his mouth.

You don't know if it's anger or hope that burns inside of you.

He never moves from his desk – never. When it's time for lunch, you walk out and sit with your friends like any normal kid, but he just sits where he is, hands folded neatly on his lap or the table, staring into nowhere. Yuugi, with his kind soul, never worries about him either.

Of course, Yuugi isn't worrying about anyone right now. His eyes have been drained from feeling, like Kaiba, except at least _he_ moves around. Anzu has stopped trying to talk to him, and all she does is cry softly whenever she looks at his figure, all stiff yet weary, like a robot or even a zombie – moving flesh and bones, but lifeless. You want to cry too, whenever you see him, but you want to be strong; you can't let Yami no Malik have the satisfaction of seeing you break down. Still, something in your heart aches when you watch your best friend curl up, alone, in a corner, talking to himself in whispers and murmurs. Sometimes you approach him and attempt to make conversation, asking him if he wants to talk about it, but then he just looks up with graying eyes and says "No, I don't think I want to, thank you" before he bursts out in a fit of giggles, cackling a psychotic laughter that sends shivers down your spine.

Yami no Yuugi died in the final duel.

Yuugi's soul is empty, like his eyes. His heart is full of holes, bleeding and broken.

It's a sad thing when even the voices inside your head are gone.

For a moment, you wonder if Mokuba was everything to Kaiba, like Yami was to Yuugi, because they're both broken dolls at this point. You return to class and find that he's still sitting there.

You spend the rest of the day counting the seconds until he blinks.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of the day, you pick up your bag and make your way to the door. Pretty much everyone has filed out at this point, and there's nothing but silence once more. But he's still here.

You stop. You turn. You look his way.

He's still staring straight ahead; a limp curl of hair falls in front of his face, over his eyes.

For a moment you wonder what you should do. You can stay or you can leave.

You're not supposed to care.

When you look down, you find to your surprise that your hands are moving on their own, fetching a scrap of paper from your book bag and a ball-point pen from your jeans.

His head snaps in your direction when the paper ball lands on his desk and he stares at you with a blank gaze. Finally, he lets his hands slide apart and he picks apart the paper, smoothing out the wrinkles.

He stares at your phone number and grips the edges of the note so tightly that you're afraid it's going to rip in half. You wonder if he's going to toss it away, but then he folds it in half and puts it in his coat pocket. When he turns to you, he still looks as dull as ever but you think you see a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

There's silence between the two of you and you finally step away, leaving the room with his eyes still boring heatedly into the back of your head.

For some reason, your heart's all aflutter.

He calls you that night.

**fin.**

**[afterward]**

Finished June 26th, 2004.

Written and modified in 97 minutes [one hour, 37 minutes].

1314 words.

Meh. Much strangeness. Tell me, how do you feel after reading that? I'd like to know. -pokes it, muttering-

The "voices in your head won't talk to you," in which I improvised, is credited to **innominate **[again] from "One Week."

The World Domination series was written as a birthday tribute to myself [to those of you who don't know, my birthday was [july 3] -smile-].

**endlog[11:13 am]**


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